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Having a six-month old child in the house is very interesting. One of the things that fascinates me is the way he studies us. If he can't see us, he's always turning his head to try to find us (finding Mama is a higher priority than finding Dada, but he does look for both of us). And when he finds us, he watches everything we do.
And he's started mimicking us.
If I blow a raspberry (I call it an "air zerbert"), he tries to mimic the sound (and has become quite successful at the task!). If I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, he tries to mimic that as well (so far he has been unsuccessful; the closest he comes is to make a smacking sound by sucking his tongue against his upper lip).
He also studies the way we eat, and now that he's taking some solid food, he's quite eager to open his mouth for the spoon.
I realized this morning that I'm recycling myself. I'm taking the ideas, behavior patterns, and attitudes that make up who I am and -- whether I like it or not -- giving them new life in the next generation.
My son won't become a mini-me, and he won't become a mini-Laura; he will be his own person. But so much of his behaviors and ideas will be a recycling of things he sees in both his mama and his dada.
It makes me think pretty carefully about what Paul says in Philippians 4:
If I want my son to develop good and godly qualities in his life, I'd better make them an integral part of my life as well, because whatever I dwell on will get recycled!
And Paul follows up that verse with a bit of recycling:
What about you? What are you recycling to the next generation? I want to be able to say to my son -- and all the other people I come in contact with -- "Whatever you see and hear from me, it's okay to recycle it in your own life!"
A year ago I went to see my dentist and he said to me, "Doug, you have great teeth. They are solid, the gums are good, everything looks great!"
This year I went back for my checkup and he said, "Oh, Doug, you have two big cavities, right between the teeth." Long pause... "Have you been flossing?"
Ouch. Of course -- that task I know I'm supposed to do every day, but I don't. Flossing helps to clean out the food particles between the teeth, so they don't cause the teeth to start decaying.
Do you floss? Every day? I didn't floss at all, until I had to have two fillings this spring. Now I do.
I started thinking, though, that Bible reading is a lot like flossing -- it's one of those tasks that everyone knows you should do on a regular basis, but we often say, "Oh, I don't have time for that today," or "Maybe tomorrow."
And reading your Bible is a lot like flossing in another way -- it's a way of cleaning out the garbage that your brain picks up on a daily basis, just from living in a messed up world. Every day, just from living in this world, you daily come in contact with bad attitudes, bad actions, and bad ideas (and this happens even when you're just hanging out with other Christians, because -- let's face it -- Christians aren't perfect either!). And these bad attitudes, actions, and ideas can get lodged in your brain, where they do not belong.
Reading God's word is a way of dislodging some of that stuff that can cause spiritual decay. Romans 12:2 says to renew your mind, and so in a sense, we could think of a regimen of regular scripture reading as your "mental floss."
A couple more thoughts about the idea of scripture reading as your spiritual floss or mental floss:
1. Just as you should never say, "Oh, I've already flossed 500 times, I don't need to do it again," you should never say, "Oh, I've already read God's word 500 times -- why should I bother reading it again?" The answer should be obvious; the fact that you've flossed in the past doesn't do any good when it comes to cleaning out the garbage you've accumulated now. In the same way, since you're continually collecting spiritual garbage in this world, the spiritual flossing needs to be ongoing as well -- no matter how many times you've already read it!
2. If I hadn't told you that I had two cavities, you never would have known it. In the same way, if you allow spiritual decay in your life, you can probably hide it from people for a long time. But if you hide it, and don't do anything about it -- if you pretend it doesn't exist -- sooner or later, everything will collapse in spiritual decay, and you (and everyone else) will be saying, "What in the world just happened?"
It has been interesting, in the last few months, to watch our baby boy develop. One thing that has fascinated me is how drastically his attitude toward us has changed. When he was a newborn, of course, he didn't understand the concept of a person, let alone a parent. If he looked at us, it was with unfocused, unseeing eyes.
Gradually he became able to focus on us, and then, as time went by, he began eagerly looking for us.
Now, at just over five months, he doesn't just look for us; he also is very much aware whether or not we are looking at him.
If we're not paying attention to him, he knows it. Often I'll be playing with him, and he'll be giggling and smiling and laughing, but if I so much as turn my head so I'm not looking at him, he begins to cry. Now, from across the room, he can tell whether or not I'm looking at him, and it matters to him whether or not I see him. What a change that is, in just a few months of development!
It made me think of that verse in Psalms:
The "apple of the eye" is the pupil -- the small opening in the iris that lets light through to the retina. Metaphorically, it means "someone who is highly treasured." But more than that, it could be more literally translated as "the little man in the eye." It's the tiny reflection of yourself that you see in someone's eye when you are looking at them, and they are looking at you.
In other words, when David says, "Keep me as the apple of Your eye," he is asking God to never take His eyes off him.
My son, even as an infant, has already developed the desire for me (and Laura) to "keep him as the apple of our eyes" -- to keep looking at him. I think it's innate -- I think we're born with the hunger to be at the center of someone's attention. Of course, I can't always have my eye on him, and even Laura, who spends much more time with him than I do, can't have her eyes on him all the time.
But I look forward to being able to teach him someday about One of whom it can be said, "He always keeps you as the apple of His eye."
And in the meantime, I need to remember that the "little man in the eye" only appears when two people are looking at each other. So if I'm asking God to keep me as the apple of His eye, I'd better do my part, and not take my eyes off Him.
In Matthew 18:3, Jesus said: “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Saturday night is bath time for our little son. It's a big production, in which both of his parents are involved. Laura draws the bath water and makes sure it's the right temperature, and then I bring the little guy in and set him down into his tub.
Then, while Laura scrubs him, I hold him to make sure he doesn't flop over (a job which is getting easier and easier by the week!).
And how much of the work does our boy do? None. His primary concern in all of this is to kick his little legs as much as possible to see how big a splash he can make, and how wet he can get his mommy.
But he doesn't do any of the cleaning. It occurred to me that we as adults ought to take this to heart when we think of Jesus's words in Matthew 18. Those who enter the kingdom of heaven are not the ones who -- like a grown-up -- got themselves all cleaned up. It is those who -- with no ability of their own to do anything -- relied on the work of God to do the cleaning.
In the Old Testament, after his sin with Bathsheba, David didn't say, "Let me get myself cleaned up, God." Instead, acknowledging his own inability to cleanse his own sin, he said, "Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." Psalms 51:7.
"Do for me what I cannot do for myself."
It's part of the great beauty of the Christian faith, that we are not a fellowship of people who made ourselves clean enough for God; we are helpless children who relied on God to do the cleaning.
Don't ever fool yourself into thinking, "I can do it myself," or "I did it myself!" Always remember the humility with which you came to God, helpless, and unable to clean yourself. The moment we forget about the cross, and the cleansing power of the blood of Christ, the moment we stop coming back to that cross with gratitude and humility, that is the moment we cease to be "like little children," and let pride take over. And when pride takes over, judgment of others is quick to follow.
A Song to Sing:
What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus; What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.
A Verse to Remember:
As a ventriloquist, I have quite a few puppets, and I use them to help teach Bible lessons. Last night Laura and I came to an interesting realization about my interactions with the puppets. First, though -- some information about my puppets...
I have three puppets that I consider to be younger than me -- they are a dodo bird, a wolf, and a French-speaking boy.
I have two puppets that I consider to be significantly older than me -- Doctor Jonas, and my hard-of-hearing, three-toothed Uncle Jim.
As we were chatting about the puppets last night, here is what we realized: Without consciously choosing to do it this way, when I have the "younger" puppets out, I always teach them a Bible lesson, but when I have the "older" puppets out...they are the ones who always teach me a Bible lesson.
Without conscious thought in the matter, I've been modeling for my audiences the concept of respect for elders, and willingness to be taught and guided by those with more years and more experience.
Now, I'm not saying that it's not possible for the younger to teach the older; in fact, I often am teaching folks who are older than me, including occasional church services at nursing homes. But in our culture of youth, where the measure of your worth seems to be inversely proportional to your age, I think it is good to model a different sort of behavior -- even if it is "just a puppet."
I love this oft-forgotten, rarely quoted verse from Leviticus:
So even though they're just puppets, I'll continue to let Uncle Jim and Doctor Jonas teach me important life lessons from scripture.
Note: Writing this article reminded me of an article I posted elsewhere, which I think is worth reading again -- especially the section on respect: Teaching Senior Citizens
Jesus said, "My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work." (John 4:34)
Our cat made me think of that verse this morning.
Every night when we go to bed, we close the cat out of the bedroom, because if we don't, he spends the night walking back and forth across me, and I don't get a whole lot of sleep.
The consequence is that, by morning, Pumpkin is pretty much starved for human affection and attention. As soon as I get out of bed, he immediately starts pawing at the other side of the bedroom door, as if to say, "Let me in! Let me in!" And then, when I exit the bedroom, he lets out a little yowl of happiness, and follows me everywhere I go.
Now the other part of this story involves the cat's food dish. Pumpkin has figured out that I won't give him more food until he has finished what's in his bowl. But for some reason he's always more eager to have "new" food than to finish what is left in his bowl from the previous night.
So the cat has a terrible dilemma. On the one hand, he wants to be with me wherever I go, but on the other hand, he wants to finish what's left in his food dish so he can have more.
So how do you suppose he resolves this little conflict of interests? Simple! He hangs out with me wherever I go, and then, when I happen to go into the kitchen, he'll go straight to his food dish and wolf down a few more morsels of food, hoping that he can finish his food before I leave the kitchen. Then when I go back to the living room, he follows me, leaving behind his food until the next time I go into the kitchen.
Sometimes it takes him a couple hours to finish that last little bit of food.
But I thought it was interesting that, for the cat, hanging out with me was more important than getting more food.
It made me think of Jesus.
My food is to do the will of Him who sent Me and to accomplish His work.
"I'd rather be doing God's work than eating!"
Lord, may this be true of us, that we'd rather be spending time with you, spending our lives on your work, than on any other endeavor!
Whenever I hear the word "regeneration," I always think of starfish. After all, a starfish has the ability to regenerate a limb. If a starfish loses a limb, it will begin growing a new one, and sometimes in as little as a few months, it will have a brand new leg, and you might not know it had ever been injured.
But I learned something recently that I never knew about starfish: some species of starfish have the ability to regrow an entire starfish from the limb that is broken off!.
Sound crazy? It sure sounded crazy to me. Since the limb doesn't have a mouth, it lives off stored nutrients within itself, and uses that energy to begin growing a new disk. And eventually, if it survives long enough, it'll grow a whole new mouth, and then it can start eating again, while it continues regrowing the rest of its limbs.
Suddenly, I had a whole new perpsective on Titus 3:5:
What is regeneration? Perhaps my original picture of regeneration is no longer sufficient. Regeneration is not me growing new spiritual limbs; regeneration is God taking something as dead and useless as a lump of starfish leg, and -- impossible as it might seem -- making it into something alive and useful -- a brand new spiritually living person.
And if that's regeneration, then perhaps renewing is what I always pictured as regeneration: God taking something that he has already made alive, and repairing the damage that it receives throughout the day-to-day living in this world.
I'm so glad that my God is powerful enough to make me alive when I was dead, and I'm so grateful that he's willing to repair and renew me day by day!
When my grandfather was growing up -- in the Depression Era -- his father (my great-grandfather, of course) had polio, which left him crippled. He was a farmer, so being crippled was obviously a great hardship. (Somewhere, years ago, I remember seeing an old, old video of my great-grandfather feeding the chickens on his hands and knees).
One of the consequences of my great-grandfather's polio was that my grandfather had to take on a great deal of the responsibility for making the farm run. A heavy responsibility, and a lot of hard work. I'm sure that his work ethic was probably passed on to his children.
During the the Depression Era, there was a year when the crops weren't good, and the family was running desperately short on food. The great dilemma was this: they were running short on potatoes, and had to decide: Are we going to eat the potatoes, or are we going to go hungry so we can plant them for a new crop this spring?
It was a terrible dilemma, which brought them face-to-face with the issue of short-term satisfaction over long-term benefits.
In the end, they did both. My great-grandfather, when he told the story to my father, said "We ate the potatoes, but we peeled them with very thick peelings, and planted them."
And they had the best crop of potatoes ever.
This story is one that demonstrates the concept of delayed gratification; rather than just focusing on the current desire, the family was willing to skimp a bit, and put off what they wanted now in order to reap a greater reward later. It's an ability that is often lacking in our world; we want what we want, and we want it NOW.
Romans 8:24-25 tells us that "hope" is waiting for what we don't yet have, and those who hope wait patiently.
And I find myself thinking: If my family, that lived through the Great Depression, could put up with a little hunger, and wait patiently for the hope of a great new crop of potatoes, what right do I have to be impatient in far-less-life-threatening situations?
In 2 Corinthians 5:20 Paul writes, "Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us."
An ambassador is a representative of their homeland, king, or president. Christ was an ambassador of the Father, and he represented His Father both by speaking the words of the Father ("...the word that you hear is not mine but the Father's who sent me." John 14:24) and doing the works of the Father ("...the very works that I am doing, bear witness about me that the Father has sent me." John 5:36).
In the same way we are ambassadors of Christ, and we must represent Him both in word and deed.
A few weeks ago I was driving down Route 3 from Augusta to Belfast, and I noticed the car in front of me -- a bright, shiny-red Mustang with two signs printed on the back. The first sign was the name of a driving academy and a telephone number. The second sign had three simple words: "DRIVE THIS MUSTANG!"
It was quite a contrast to the driving academy in my hometown; their cars are nondescript, uninteresting vehicles, and if the academy put a sign on their cars that said, "DRIVE THIS CAR," everyone would laugh.
And I thought, "The car represents the academy in two ways: The sign represents the academy in words, but also, the car itself is a representative of the academy. People who see the Mustang will know all the information they need to contact the academy, but it is the Mustang itself that is the real advertisement. People who see this car will say, "That is the academy I want to go to!"
In the same way, we must be the "advertisement" for Christianity both in our words, and in our lives. Our words tell others about salvation which is to be found only in Christ. But our lives must be an advertisement for Christianity as well; when people look at our lives, they ought to say, "That's a life that's a cut above the rest, and if that's what Christianity is, I want that!"
The words and the deeds must go hand in hand. One without the other is pointless.
Last fall my friends Ben and Melissa added a baby to their family. I was excited for the news, and waited impatiently for the day they would invite me to come see the little girl. As we were sitting around chatting, and watching the baby doing baby-ish things (that is to say, not much of anything but make faces and noises). Ben said, "Do you want to hold her?"
I said, "Well, yeah!"
I have to admit, it had been a long time since I'd held a newborn in my arms; most of my friends have passed the age when they're adding children to the family, so opportunities to hold newborns are few and far between for me.
As I cradled her in my arms, I thought, How different this is from the way I hold my nephew who is four years old! This little girl is so fragile compared to him!
And I remembered a word that crops up in the Bible from time to time: gentleness. Colossians 3:12 tells us to clothe ourselves with gentleness (meekness). Galatians 6:1 instructs us that when we confront someone caught in sin, we must do it gently.
And what does that tell us? It tells us that, like newborn babies, human beings are all fragile. Not, in most cases, physically fragile, but spiritually fragile and emotionally fragile. How we treat one another is a reflection of our understanding that, as Psalm 103 says, we are formed from the dust of the earth, and there is nothing more fragile than that.